


A Likely Story

by Shadowofthewind



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book Shop AU, Coffee Shop, Idk it's a bit random, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-27
Updated: 2014-08-27
Packaged: 2018-02-15 01:07:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2209863
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowofthewind/pseuds/Shadowofthewind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke doesn't like books, but indirectly, Ashton makes him.</p>
<p>Or, </p>
<p>Luke feels a bit lost in London, until he finds a certain bookshop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Likely Story

**Author's Note:**

> Just want to put a big disclaimer:  
> This is purely fictional, and I have nothing to do with the characters concerned.
> 
> Sorry I suck at summaries, so I don't blame you if you're put off. It is my first fic (like ever) so I hope it's not shit  
> Oh, and excuse any mistakes, they're obviously all mine and all that

Under a bruising sky, London awoke like a watercolour coming to life. Before dawn had even broken, the leaden clouds had already stolen what little light the early morning had, and rain was not a threat but a promise. This displeasing weather was painful to wake up to, and for Luke, it fuelled his irritation towards the country he had moved to. He was sick of the ashen clouds that bought rain, the food that tasted off, and the sugary, artificial politeness that was too obvious in the expressions and voices of the people he’d met since he’d moved. Plus, he had yet to find a shop that sold Vegemite, and he wasn’t sure how long he could stand life without it. In Sydney, Luke reminded himself bitterly, everything he’d wanted was an arm’s reach away, his friends and family included. He’d always wanted more that just what he could touch however, and moving to the opposite side of the planet had always seemed out of reach, and it was what he’d dreamed of.   
So finally, after persisting his parents for over a year to let him move, filling out his own weight in visa forms, and scouring the internet for somewhere to live, Luke ended up being sick of England after a mere month of moving there.   
Although Calum, his flatmate, reassured him warmheartedly, Luke always brushed off mentions of homesickness- he absolutely refused to miss the place he’d been desperate to leave for the last eighteen years, especially after having left so pitifully recently. This melodramatic series of emotions usually struck in the morning, when instead of a glorious Australian sun, Luke was greeted by the sort of scene that his window displayed on this morning- grey, grey and more grey.   
His first few days had been the most painful, as Luke wandered the streets of London amongst crowds strangers, feeling like a small pebble cutting through water hurtling past in the opposite direction. Calum, being much more ‘street-wise’ (or ‘British wise’ as Luke liked to think), helped him find a job at a coffee shop a crawling distance away from their flat. He’d been introduced to one of Calum’s friends, Michael, who’d informed him that although his hair was currently a violent shade of pink, he was planning on changing it to an acid green pretty soon, albeit against their boss’ wishes. Luke found it easier than he expected to start working as a waiter-come-barista, especially as he found enough common ground with Michael, as both of them were a) Australian, b) into similar bands and c) friends with Calum. When the shop was particularly quiet, the other boy would blast out Greenday on the radio, instead of the bubble gum pop that was usually playing to attract a ‘hip’ crowd (at least according to the higher powers that ran the café, who dismissed Luke and Michaels complaints that Justin Bieber did not count as ‘cool’). In these moments, Michael told Luke of his hatred for the barren wasteland he grew up in, and everyone he’d left there. Luke would respond with as much enthusiasm, but couldn’t quite muster the heart to talk badly of his family in the way that Michael would of his.  
So, in amongst his and his candyfloss-haired co-worker antics, and the rush hour periods of angry business men who wanted hotter coffee, or older people who just wanted a plain and simple coffee (“none of this foreign ‘cappuccino’ crap, young man”), Luke had found solace in his underpaid, sometimes boring job.

The blond Australian woke up to watch the fine rain coat the rooftops neighbouring his window in a sheet of silver, with Luke’s shift at the cafe not starting until after lunch. After boredom began to creep in, he sought out the company of one of the two people he could call a friend in the entire city (or country, come to think of it).  
“Luke did you get more cereal yesterday?” the said friend asked as he sensed him enter the kitchen.  
“If I did I wouldn’t tell you, I only bought a box last week and you finished it!”   
“Don’t be a knob Lucas, my food is your food and all that crap, I let you eat my ice cream sometimes anyway,” Calum huffed as he pulled a faux-injured expression and spread the last scraps of nutella his toast.   
“I’ll let you touch my food when you stop calling me that,” Luke rolled his eyes as, “and you have your toast dumbass,”   
“But Luke-“  
“Stop whining Calum, I’ll take away your friend-of-employee coffee discount,”  
“Then I’ll use Mikey’s,” he quipped.  
“You know the discount doesn’t actually exist?” Luke scoffed as he scanned the meagre selection of food left in the cupboard.  
“Well it seems to work when you’re in a good mood,”  
“Then stop eating my cereal, and I’ll be happy and give you cheap coffee,” Luke drawled, grabbing a kit cat and turning to sarcastically smile at his friend.  
“Don’t be mean it doesn’t suit you,” Calum pouted, “and you can’t have that for breakfast,” he nodded at the chocolate in Luke’s hand.  
“Well I don’t have any cereal so what else can I eat? And anyway, don’t you have lingerie to sell?” Luke teased, the predictable impact of his final blow shining in his eyes.  
Calum’s expression darkened, “how dare you! My co-worker’s ill- I don’t have a choice!” he cried and swatted at Luke as his friend cackled ruthlessly.  
“Would you like a double D with extra padding ma’am,” Luke trilled in a mock-British accent, dodging Calum’s slaps.  
“Lu-ke, that’s not fair,”   
Recently, Calum- who worked in a department store- had been positioned temporarily in the lingerie section of the shop during a shortage of staff, and neither Luke nor Michael had let him live it down.   
“I’m gonna get a picture before they move you away,” the blond winked, before Calum sighed and gave in, joining Luke by leaning against the navy kitchen counter.  
“Will we ever get proper jobs, or am I going to sell bras for the rest of my life?”   
Luke threw him a sidelong glance, “at least you don’t have the stress of keeping Michael from acting like a five year old whilst serving the most miserable people shitty coffee,”  
“Hey, your coffee isn’t shitty,”   
“Calum, you only say that because you aren’t awake enough to taste it when you drink it,”  
“Fair point,” Calum mused, “when are you next down there?”  
“Later today,”  
“I might get some drinks with a lad from work this evening, you’re welcome if you’re free later,” Calum offered.  
Luke hummed, “maybe,” he said finally.  
“C’mon, you only leave the flat to work, aren’t you sick of me and Michael?”   
Luke shifted pensively as he formed a response, “I-“ he sighed, “I just don’t feel like it?” he offered pathetically.   
“You’re never gonna feel like it at this rate,” Calum snorted, “just try and get out a little, fresh air is good for the soul, dude,” he thumped Luke’s shoulder to punctuate his final words.   
Even after Calum had left the flat, his words of ‘wisdom’ seemed to grow louder in Luke’s head. Maybe he would have a walk around London- but he wouldn’t enjoy it, he told himself, it was only to shut Calum up. He hadn’t come to like the city as much as he’d done in Australia, and a tiny part of him knew it was because his big dreams had amounted to a menial job, small flat, and as many friends as he had eyes (although like his eyes, Luke considered Michael and Calum pretty important, and he was starting to feel like they made living in London worthwhile).

He didn’t know where to start. Without a map and as much sense of direction as a fish lost in a vast ocean, Luke found his feet taking him to the area near Calum’s department store, where he’d occasionally met the other boy after he finished work. Instead of taking a right towards the shopping arcade, Luke followed a narrow road that looked more like a scar than a street, hoping it would take him away from the boring row of high street shops and overpriced town houses.   
Although the heart of London was made up of cold white buildings, grey clouds, roads and people, and of course the sporadic flash of red from a bus or post box, there was a certain kind of charm to the city’s dreary colour scheme, which Luke was trying his best to appreciate. He always felt underdressed in the English weather, as his Australian wardrobe consisted solely of band tees (that were mostly ripped), skinny jeans and flannels- not exactly tough enough to protect the lanky box from the harsh autumn chill. His hopes for what the city held in store for him burned brighter than ever in this moment- although the sour ache in his chest told him otherwise. 

He fiddled with his lip ring as he craned his neck upwards to take in the mixture of grand houses and tall skyscraper that loomed in the distance and caught the powdery light like mirrors, or shards of crystal. The traffic wasn’t as bad as it could be, with it being near ten o’clock, and past the rush hour mayhem. Taking advantage of the dry stream of cars, Luke crossed the road and went down another little lane, which opened into a courtyard. Sensing a dead end, Luke turned to leave- but a small shop that languished at the foot of a taller, much more modern building, had an old-fashioned, cosy aura, that suddenly seemed much more appealing to Luke, than the drops of rain that plopped ungracefully onto his hair as he stood still.  
It was a bookshop, and Luke felt a bit stupid having not realised this before stepping in. Not being a book sort of person, he avoided the curious stare from the elderly lady positioned at the counter, knowing he had no excuse to give for being in her shop if she struck up a conversation. He entered the labyrinth of books with his eyes trained on the threadbare carpet, and only when he lifted them again did he feel a little in awe of the sheer volume of books that were stacked in shelves arching up to touch the coffered ceiling. The height of the polished, but clearly chipped and old, wooden shelves gave an oppressive feeling when one stood in the narrow passageways, which mingled with the dim light and shadows created a sleepy, drowsy atmosphere, causing Luke to believe that hours could pass by unnoticed in this place, as not even the seasons or time of day could influence the lighting or mood of the core of the bookshop. Luke’s eyes glazed over the menagerie of books: bold modern paperbacks, thick hardback volumes, tall encyclopaedias and atlases- he’d never read much, other than in school, but he still couldn’t help admire the quantity of individual books arranged high above him. Each had unique characters, storylines, and authors- it left Luke desperately wanting to read them all, without knowing where to start. He was left open mouthed and gormless at the sight of so many opportunities.  
“It’s a bit intimidating at first, huh?” a friendly voice offered shyly from a few steps away.  
Caught in his vulnerable moment of contemplation, Luke blushed automatically, before he’d turned to see the stranger who’d spoken.  
And ok, he wasn’t expecting that.   
The voice should’ve given it away, with the familiar accent thick enough to spread on toast, but how was Luke to know that the most good looking boy he’d ever seen was to speak to him in some random bookshop in the middle of London?   
The brunette fidgeted as Luke made eye contact with him wearing a rabbit-in-the-headlights expression, “sorry,” he laughed softly, and Luke’s heart imploded at the streak of bashfulness that was clear in the noise, “you just looked a bit overwhelmed.” The boy tightened the blue bandana tying his messy brown curls away from his face subconsciously, and oh- Luke should probably have responded before the silence was awkward.  
“It s’ok” he mumbled, his cheeks burning brighter than a bonfire, “I kind of am- overwhelmed, I mean- it’s a lot of books,” he supplied after a pause. Kicking himself, Luke tried to direct the blood away from his cheeks, knowing that even in the hazy light they must look a red as crushed strawberries.   
As the stranger laughed with more confidence in response, Luke’s plans to stop looking so flustered went to pot as the stranger’s honest smile revealed deep dimples cutting into his cheeks either side of his mouth.   
“That’s a great observation,” the laughter still shone from the boy’s eyes as he walked a little closer towards Luke, “I’m Ashton, I work here,” he flashed a crooked grin timidly to accompany his introduction.   
“My name’s Luke, I er- don’t work here?”  
Ashton laughed loudly, “of course you don’t,” and if Luke didn’t love the sound so much, he’d probably have gone to throw himself off the Tower of London at this point, because he was being so awkward and Ashton was so fit he could feel his control slipping away.  
“What brings you here?”   
“To London? Or your fine establishment of books?”  
Snorting, Ashton shook his head, “both I guess? It’s not often I meet a fellow Aussie,”   
“Um, I guess I came in here because I got a little lost, and it was starting to rain,” Luke admitted sheepishly, not catching Ashton’s eye, “but I came to London to do bigger things, like… actually I don’t even know, I just didn’t want to stay in Sydney all my life,”   
“Fair enough, most people don’t coming looking all over town for this shop, but it’s pretty cool when you do get to know it,” Ashton smiled, picking up a thick book from the shelf he leant against, and running his fingers over the cover, “and that’s why I left Australia too,”   
Clearing his throat, Luke glanced away from Ashton, whom he’d been staring at far too intently to pass of as normal, only to look back seconds later as the other boy looked back at him.   
“What sort of books d’you like? I can help you find one?” Ashton suggested, his warm eyes hopeful. Luke made a mental note to find out what colour they were when the lighting was good enough.  
“I haven’t read a book in a long time, so I’m up for any suggestions,” Luke shrugged.  
“Really? We have to find you a good one then!” the brunette winked, leading the way through the warren of impossibly tall shelves, and in the stillness of the shop, Luke prayed that his hammering heart wasn’t loud enough to hear. 

Leaving the shop and facing the drizzle of rain, Luke clutched the slender volume to his chest, which Ashton had recommended in the midst of his fast-paced rambling about different authors and genres that he thought Luke might like (“You haven’t read any Oscar Wilde? How have you lived?”). The blond had just nodded dumbly to all the suggestions and the flow of incoherent information, but in the end he’d bought “the perfect book” according to his new friend. He’d stayed in the half-light and mahogany glow of the shop for an hour, and his only reason for leaving was the fact that his shift at the coffee shop started in a mere thirty minutes. He’d never gotten to see the colour of Ashton’s eyes, as he’d intended to, but Luke had promised to return when he next needed a book to read (a promise he didn’t dream of breaking).

___

Michael’s shift didn’t correspond with Luke’s that afternoon, so he was left nibbling at his lip piercing and serving the public overpriced hot drinks in an undisturbed dreamy stupor. In the quieter moments he managed to read short snippets of the book he’d bought under Ashton’s intense guidance, but his skin itched and head felt woozy at the though of the bookshop-boy, and he found himself having to reread passages after loosing himself in thought mid-sentence. He could picture Ashton’s muscled arms as he reached up to grab a book, and the strip of skin he could see as the other boy’s shirt lifted up in the process, and the image of this playing on repeat in his head left Luke feeling lightheaded. He wasn’t sure how long it would be before he could get away with returning to the shop, he clearly wasn’t a bookworm, no matter how captivating Ashton made half the books in the shop sound. Plus, he figured that it might get a little creepy, especially if Ashton caught him staring again as much as he had that morning in the shop.  
But going back once couldn’t hurt?  
Luke decided that purely friendly intentions shouldn’t stop him from visiting a cool shop and a cool guy (who happened to be fit as hell) and buying cool books. He wasn’t sure whom he was trying to fool with his purely ‘platonic’ determination, but it would give him enough confidence to go back.

That evening, he guiltily declined Calum’s invite to join him for a few drinks with a mate, but that remorse didn’t last long, as he nestled into the beaten up couch he and Calum had bought to fill up the awkward space in their living area. It was battered and shabby, but bloody comfortable, not to mention cheap. Calum’s expression had given away his concern, as he clearly thought that Luke was going to remain a hermit for the rest of his life. Unbeknownst to him, Luke had made a friend, even if it wasn’t of the sort that he could call up to go out with- it was still a friend.   
For the first time, Luke found himself totally immersed in the book he’d unsuccessfully began earlier. It was an odd paperback, called ‘The Time Traveller’ by H. G. Wells, and although Luke hadn’t previously heard of the author or the book, the thickness of it was only half the width of his thumb, so at least it would be a quick read.   
After a while, he found that he wasn’t putting any effort into taking in the story. His eyes grazed smoothly over the small print, and the plot and pictures he formed as he read through it seemed to play in his head in a technicolour whirl. With tired eyes and a racing heart, he finished the book in less than two hours, and found a compulsive urge to reread it from start to finish again. He suddenly didn’t care that Ashton would think of him as desperate or lame, he wanted another book (and to see the other boy again) as soon as possible. He realised in the funny moments before sleep took him unconscious that he’d have to wait two days to see Ashton again, with Sunday being the day he took the early shift at the café, and also the only damn day of the week when the bookshop would be closed. 

Instead of going back to see Ashton in the morning (or the books, which was what Luke tried to convince himself he actually interested in- to no avail), he had the Monday morning shift with Michael, and had to groggily remember not to punch his pink-haired friend when he began singing along to the trashy music on the radio. He was far too awake for Luke’s liking, and he couldn’t comprehend how and why he’d be happy during the rush hour that wasn’t rushing by as the name would imply. Instead, Luke watched the queue of people sludge by, and had to keep glancing at Michael to make sure that he hadn’t started balancing a take-away drinks cup on his cotton-candy hair and claiming it was a “fez”, which he’d been doing regularly since seven am.   
Before Luke went totally insane, a very taxing customer complaining about the “lack of froth on my latte” interrupted the arrival of his lunch break, who insisted on getting a “foam top up” - something that was slightly ridiculous. Feeling a little mean, Luke ducked out prematurely of the situation, letting Michael deal with the lack-of-foam-lady as he slipped wordlessly into the back room. Knowing he only had an hour, Luke didn’t wait up to tell his friend of his plans, something else that made him feel a twist of guilt. He knew that disappearing mysteriously during his lunch break, when Michael knew he had nothing better to do (on a normal occasion), meant that he was bound to have an interrogation if he was caught leaving. Luke planned for this inevitable grilling to happen later rather than sooner, so leaving silently wasn’t that bad. 

He had to force himself to tone down the spring in his step as he walked as fast as his long, gangly legs could carry him to the place he’d not stopped thinking about. The front of the bookshop looked unkempt, as if it had been forgotten about a while ago. The rest of the courtyard it was tucked also had an air of dilapidation, enhanced by the fact that the sun’s clear light didn’t quite reach all the corners of the space.   
His stomach was pleasantly tingling with apprehension- he wasn’t nervous. Why would he be nervous? He was just there to buy a book after all.  
The counter was unoccupied, unlike his last visit, so Luke delved straight into a row of shelves filled with a multitude of vibrant books. Slightly disappointed that Ashton hadn’t made an appearance yet, he wandered slowly down the narrow passage with his hands jammed into his skinny jean pockets. He hadn’t noticed earlier, but suddenly he was self-conscious of his coffee shop shirt and the apron he’d forgotten to remove before leaving. It was too late to change now, and Luke presumed that he was destined to look like a knob no matter what he wore, it was just that he’d hoped to avoid Ashton seeing him in his baggy, unflattering uniform.   
Out of the shadows a couple of paces away, a familiar figure stepped towards Luke, who didn’t need to look beyond his peripheral vision to identify the person, and then have his heart set off like a horse in the races almost immediately after.   
“Did you finish the book?”   
Taking a step away from the shelf to face him better, Luke nodded towards Ashton, biting back a nervous smile, “yeah, I loved it.”  
“Really?” Ashton’s eyes crinkled to accommodate a bright smile that seemed to sum his personality up like the blurb on a book jacket, “it’s not easy to get into, but the main story’s great, isn’t it?”  
“It’s the first time I’ve not been able to put a book down,” Luke admitted, “not that I’ve read much, to be honest.”  
“I was thinking about something else you might like,” the apprehensive expression on Ashton’s face made Luke’s chest feel like it was caving in, he was nervous to recommend a book- to him.  
“Thank god, because I still have no clue as to what I should read next,” he said as warmly as he could.  
The smile was back- and bloody hell it was the most beautiful thing Luke had seen for as long as he could remember.  
Like the last time he’d set foot and walked on the fraying carpet of the shop, Luke smiled fondly at Ashton’s ‘technical’ book-speak, having no clue what he was getting himself into, but he gladly soaked up the sunshine that seemed to be constantly emanating from everything Ashton said or did, knowing he was doomed. 

“Hey, I missed you at lunch,” Michael poked Luke who was slouched next to him on the sofa.  
“Sorry I went out,” Luke mumbled quickly.  
“Where? Dude you literally don’t go out, like ever,”  
Poking him back, Luke grumbled, “that’s mean, and I do to,”  
“Do not!” Calum called from the kitchen, “you’re the biggest loner I know.”  
“Thanks Cal, I love you too,” sarcasm was Luke’s only strength in life, and he fully utilised it around his friends.   
“Don’t be so sassy Lucas,”   
“Can I have some pizza now,”  
Raising an eyebrow, Calum kept hold of the plate stacked high with out-of-the-oven pizza close to his chest.  
Luke rolled his eyes, “please.”  
“Fine Lukey-boy, but tell us where you were first,”  
Luke didn’t know if it was possible to damage your eyes from rolling them too many times, but he did it again anyway.  
“I went to a shop, ok, no big deal.”  
“What kind of shop?” Michael’s eyes widened as he gasped, “a sex shop?”  
Choking pre-breath, Luke laughed, “Mikey I went to a bookshop, I’m just an innocent child!”  
“Innocent child my foot,” Calum grumbled, “what the hell were you doing in a bookshop, you don’t even read.”  
Snatching a piece of pizza from Calum’s plate, he tried to look nonchalant as he nibbled it, “now I do.”  
“Puh-lease, there has to be an ulterior motive behind this sudden love of books,”   
“No there doesn’t!” he argued feebly, knowing that his lies were as transparent as cling-film.   
The silence that followed was heavy with expectance, as both Luke’s friends knew that under pressure, Luke cracked like a nut.  
“Fine, there’s a cute guy that works there,” he muttered resignedly.   
Michael threw his head back with loud laughter, as Calum started giggling. Repulsed, Luke glanced between his hysterical friends, “what’s so funny?”  
After the sporadic pause of laughter, Michael looked him in the eye as he wiped away imaginary tears, “we kind of guessed all along, you’ve been in a different headspace these past few days. Sorry to say it, but your fucking obvious when you’re whipped Luke.”  
Calum was still chuckling quietly as Luke felt his cheeks warm up, right to the tip of his ears.  
“What does your crush look like?” Calum teased.  
“None of your bloody business,” was the clipped response, punctuated by a cushion thrown at Calum’s face.

Time didn’t feel as substantial as it had done pre-bookshop discovery, as Luke’s life was suddenly forced into a schedule of work and reading, and as soon as he’d finished a book he’d hurry back to Ashton when the next opportunity presented itself to buy another one. It was getting to be an expensive habit, and Calum had likened his relationship with the brunette bookseller as “an addiction to crack”. Luke couldn’t disagree with the simile, because he wasn’t able to stop himself from bouncing back to buy more books when his last supply had run out. Reading was just an enjoyable bi-product of seeing Ashton, he wasn’t darting back to the shop to read another novel- at this point he full on knew his true motive was to spend time with the other boy.   
It was getting worse too, because he no longer could excuse his frequent visits with having finished a five hundred page novel in two days and being ready for another book. Luke found himself making up aunts or nephews with birthdays, whom he needed to buy a book as a present for. Ashton always looked up through his golden eyelashes when Luke gave these explanations, and he found it hard to decipher such stares. Had Ashton sussed him out? It was blatantly obvious that he was a little on the over-eager side, but the other boy had always responded with so many new suggestions, it made Luke feel as if he put a lot of thought into his recommendations for him, something which caused his heart to feel lighter, as if it would float away if left untethered.   
His trips to the bookshop becoming more frequent hadn’t gone unnoticed by his flatmate, who always gave him a certain look when Luke would return for the third time in that week with a new book in his hands, and an unyielding smile on his face. It was a knowing expression mingled with fondness, and it would always be followed by relentless questions about that day’s visit and how Ashton was (although Calum referred to him as “bookshop dude”).  
A recent conversation with his friend, however, had left Luke puzzled:  
“Have you got his number yet?” Calum had asked over the loud noises of the video game they were playing.  
“Who’s?”  
“Y’know, that guy you buy books from,”  
“His names Ashton, Cal, and no I don’t,”  
“Don’t be grumpy Lucas, if you like him so much why don’t you get it?”  
And the problem was, Luke didn’t have an answer. He’d talk himself into asking Ashton out for a drink after work plenty of times on his way to the shop, but just a glimpse at the back of the brunette’s head as he stacked up a pile of books, or the sound of a sunny “hey Luke!” left him giddy and queasy with nerves.   
Despite his past history of failed attempts at asking Ashton out, over a month and a half after first meeting him, Luke was determined to initiate the next step, even if nothing came from it.

“Luke, hi! It’s so good you’re here, we just got a new shipment of books, and I know you’re gonna love ‘em,” Ashton rambled amicably as he held a heavy box filled to the brim with paperbacks.  
Suddenly, Luke felt short of breath, causing Ashton to look over at him in concern at the length of unbroken silence.   
After what was clearly too long to be normal, Luke choked out, “I didn’t know you wore glasses,” as if it explained his abrupt lapse of awkwardness.   
“Oh, these?” Luke could’ve sworn on his back teeth that Ashton blushed, “I left my contacts at a friends, so it was these either or going around blind for the day,”  
The black frames suited Ashton in a way that Luke could never have even imagined, and he couldn’t decide if he liked the boy better with or without them. Either way, he caused Luke’s chest to ache like nothing else could.  
Coughing to cover up the uncomfortable first start, Luke mentally slapped himself several times, and somehow bit out the words he’d been repeating in his head for the last few days.  
“Um, Ashton, we don’t really see each other, like at all, apart from here of course, and I was wondering if you’d, er… like to go out sometime? Like for coffee or something? It’s fine if you don’t want to, like I understand if-“  
“Luke, slow down buddy, you’re gonna have an aneurism,” Ashton laughed quietly, “and I’d er, yeah I’d love to.”  
As he scratched the back of his neck and glanced shyly at the floor, Luke almost wanted to melt at the cuteness that was Ashton at that moment.  
“Is it a date?” the other boy asked so suddenly that Luke had barely any time to register the words.  
“Yeah, if you’re ok with that I mean,” Luke hastily added.  
“Of course.”  
The rest of the hour spent with Ashton was filled with cheek-splitting beams and soft touches as their hands brushed by accident. It left Luke blushing ferociously as if he was paid for it, but the other boy’s responding laughter stopped him from focussing on his appearance for too long. 

The chunk of money he’d spent in curating his own little library in order to excuse his visits to Ashton was larger than he’d admit, but the countless visits had finally paid off, and Luke couldn’t help a tinge of sadness at the thought of losing the tradition of only seeing Ashton through the shop every few days. A much stronger feeling overwhelmed his sorrow, however, as he thought with glee of the number now stored in his phone, and the promise of a coffee date lying solidly in the future.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay thanks for reading (if you got through it all, I'm proud)  
> Kudos would mean a lot :)


End file.
